Starting Fresh
by kelayna
Summary: The trip to rescue Sirius wasn't supposed to turn into a battle and Hermione definitely didn't expect to end up dying at the hand's of a Death Eater. But was she actually dead? And why was the "afterlife" so much different than she had expected? Timetravel. Marauder's Era. Resorting. Starts at the end of OotP and ignores HBP and DH. Adult themes and language. Multi chapter WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi everyone! This story has been spinning in my brain for awhile and I finally decided to sit down and write it. I've got about 3 chapters written but I'm going to try to upload one a week, or maybe two a week if I can keep up. This is a time travel Severus Snape/Hermione Granger pairing so leave now if you hate that pairing (or time travel). This is currently rated M for language and violence but there will probably be some sexual situations much later in the story. This will be a little slower on the love story side of things and Hermione will be resorted. This ignores HBP and DH as it starts at the end of OoTP. Hope you all enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Any characters and situations you recognize are not owned by me, but rather by the amazing J.K. Rowling.**

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was dying. Yes, there was no other way to describe this feeling. She must be dying. She knew she had been hit by a spell, but having silenced the caster right before he voiced the words she had no idea what he had cast. She vaguely remembered a purple light shooting across the room at her chest and then she had felt the way she felt now. Floating, suspended in a peaceful white light. Okay, maybe she wasn't dying, maybe she was already dead. Isn't this how the afterlife was often described? Peaceful, light, no pain, no worries? If so, then yes, she was already dead. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to care about that. This peace, after the chaos of the spells, shouts and desperation that she had left behind in the Department of Mysteries was just too lovely for her to try and think further into it. She couldn't even remember if she had actually managed to cast _stupefy_ at the man she had silenced before everything had went all peaceful and white. She really didn't care about that either.

But then it turned out maybe she should have bothered to care just a bit, because suddenly her entire body was jerking up, arms flinging out in front of her and then swinging back, her head repeating the movement a scant moment later. She hung there, suspended in the whiteness, her heart beating almost out of her chest and her once quiet mind spinning at lightning speeds, trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Was she actually not dead? Was this some sort of after-life punishment? All her rambling thoughts were cut off abruptly however, when she was suddenly flung forward and had the highly alarming sensation of flying at dizzying speed through space. Everything remained white, and it didn't look like she was moving but it _felt_ like it and the whole situation was so disorienting that she had to shut her eyes tightly to keep from vomiting.

And then just as suddenly as her forward flight had begun, it stopped, and she only had a brief moment to recognize the stomach dropping sensation of falling before she realized she was hurtling downwards now at alarming speed and then color burst back into her world. So much color everywhere that her eyes slammed shut again, but only for a moment. They flew back open a second later and all the color quickly resolved into a very blue sky with a few lazy white clouds floating through it. She glanced down, _big mistake_ , and found that she was hurtling at insane speed towards a lovely green meadow. She found her voice then and screamed. At the same moment she realized that she had control of her body again and flung her arms forward where her eyes connected with her right hand still holding her vinewood wand. Her brain took only a second to flash back to the appropriate spell and she flourished her wand and screamed, " _Arresto Momentum!"_ the moment before her body would have slammed painfully, and probably fatally, into the ground. As it was, she found herself suspended parallel to the earth below, the gently waving stalks of green grass lightly tickling her nose. Gulping, she took in several steadying breaths and then whispered, " _Finite Incantatum"._ Her breath whooshed out of her with a quiet _oof_ as she hit the grass and earth with a much softer thump than her headlong rush of a minute before would have suggested.

Groaning, she rolled over to face up to the sky. _What the hell just happened?!_ She thought in bewilderment. One minute she was so sure she was dying, or dead and the next she was laying in a green meadow somewhere after nearly _actually_ dying by headlong impact with the earth. Speaking of somewhere, where was she? Carefully, so as to keep her head from spinning too much, she levered herself up on one arm and rolled to the side to look around her. Blinking rapidly in shock, she rubbed her eyes hard with her other hand and the stared again, because there in front of her was Hogwarts, in all its glory and Hagrid's hut not too far to her left. Rolling to her back again she took a deep breath and pushed herself to a sitting position and found herself face to face with the Forbidden Forest, not a hundred meters from where she sat. So she was at Hogwarts. But why? And how? She'd just been at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries, hadn't she? Speaking of, she glanced down at her chest swiftly, expecting to see her clothes charred over her chest and a gaping wound, even though she hadn't been experiencing pain. She blinked again in confusion at the jumper she wore, that while streaked with dirt, was still in one piece with no char marks, or rips, or well, anything. She quickly patted her chest and upon feeling no pain she breathed a sigh of relief, but a frown of confusion still pulled her lips down. She glanced back up at the Forbidden Forest and pushed herself to her feet a bit unsteadily. What the bloody hell was going on?! She swayed on her feet for a moment and once she felt like she wouldn't topple over with the next gust of wind she slowly turned around to face the castle and started the long walk, thinking furiously the whole way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Hermione secretly hoped that Umbridge hadn't found a way to escape the Centaurs and make it back into Hogwarts, but just to be safe she was going to creep through the shadows until she could ascertain what exactly was occurring in the old castle. Sticking to dark alcoves and shaded archways she crept into and through the castle. Something was off, but for a moment she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was. As she crept past the doors to the Great Hall it occurred to her like a thunderclap and left her momentarily stunned. _No one was in the castle!_ She'd never seen Hogwarts so quiet before. Where was everyone? When the DA had left just a couple hours ago, _was it even that long?,_ all the students had still been here. Something was terribly wrong, and Hermione had to find out what that was.

Clutching her wand close to her chest she slunk stealthily towards the Headmaster's office, sticking to the shadows still, just in case. Searching the surrounding area as carefully as possibly she finally stepped out into the open to stand in front of the gargoyle that guarded the steps to the Headmaster's office. She immediately started flinging quiet words at it to see if any of them caused it to open, "Chocolate Frogs, lemon drops, Fizzing Whizzbess, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands…" She was starting to wonder if maybe the dotty old man had changed the password to something un-sweet related before he had fled and then snorted at the thought, no he liked his sweets way too much, "Droobles Best Blowing gum, Treacle Tart, Cockroach Clusters, ah ha!" She crowed triumphantly when the gargoyle moved to let her pass after she said "Cockroach Clusters". She darted to the stairs and took them two at a time in her haste. Finally she stood in front of the Headmaster's door. She felt rude just throwing spells at the door to try and open it, even if the Headmaster had been gone for awhile, so, as stupid as she felt doing it, she knocked 3 times on the hard wood. And to her absolute shock a deep voice called out, "Come in!" and the door swung open.

Hermione grabbed hold of the door frame to keep from collapsing when she saw Professor Dumbledore sitting peacefully behind his desk, his blue eyes twinkling at her questioningly. Besides the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be here, was the fact that he looked younger, with a shorter beard and a few less lines on his aged face. Merlin's saggy underpants! What was going ON?!

"My dear," Professor Dumbledore intoned kindly, "You look as if you have seen a boggart. Do come have a seat and tell me what troubles you." He gestured to the seats in front of his desk and calmly poured another cup of tea.

Hermione stumbled forward out of instinct more than anything and collapsed in one of the armchairs facing the Headmaster. She realized she was staring at him with wide eyes and a face that was probably white as a sheet but she couldn't seem to command herself to snap out of it. In the end it took Professor Dumbledore "tut tutting" worriedly and placing a warm cup of tea in her hand to get her to blink owlishly and come back to the present.

"Professor," she gasped, leaning forward in her seat, as soon as the ability to use her voice had returned. "Why are you back? Did the ministry reinstate you? Did you see Harry? And Ron? And where is everybody? And did you do something with your beard?" The words all tumbled out one on top of the other until she stopped abruptly as she realized the ridiculousness of her last question and decided she was probably becoming hysteric. She spent the next few seconds gulping in mouthfuls of air and attempting to calm her fluttering pulse. Once she could breathe a bit again she took a calm sip of tea and looked over the rim of the teacup at the Headmaster with poise as if she hadn't just about hyperventilated.

Professor Dumbledore was staring at her with an expression somewhere between worried, alarmed and amused. "My Dear," he finally said calmly, "I'm afraid you are going to have to start at the beginning, and maybe one question at a time. I confess I am rather confused about some of what you asked me." He tilted his head just the slightest bit to the side with a curious expression in his eyes while he waited for her to respond.

Hermione shut her eyes, took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Carefully she leaned forward and placed the teacup back on the Headmaster's desk. Her mind was whirring and she was carefully sorting through her thoughts to find which question was most important to ask right at the moment. Upon finally picking the one she felt was most relevant she looked back up at the Professor and said in a calm voice that belied the turmoil inside, "Professor, why is the castle empty of students?"

Dumbledore raised both eyebrows in surprise and chuckled, "Why, my dear, because it is August. The Summer holidays you know. Which is also making me curious as to why you are here and who exactly you might be."

And Hermione turned white as a sheet again, entirely ignoring the last thing he had said in favor of focusing on the first thing. August?! NO! It couldn't be August. It was June! Had she actually been dead, suspended in time? What had happened? Her next question seemed the most logical to her, "Sir, what year is it," her voice was small and almost breathy as she pushed the words out into the air between them.

Dumbledore looked at her keenly for a moment and then responded quietly, "It is the year 1976. The 18th of August to be precise."

Hermione gripped the arms of the chair with white knuckles and tried to remember how to breathe. Her ears were ringing and her head was hot but the rest of her was curiously cold and she couldn't quite make her body respond to her commands. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest and she vaguely wondered in the back of her mind somewhere, where thoughts still seemed to be processing, if she was having a panic attack. _1976 1976 1976_ was running through her mind like a refrain, or maybe a death knell. _It might as well be a death knell,_ some part of her moaned.

And then Dumbledore was in front of her, gently prying her hands off of the arms of the chair and holding them between his own thin, wrinkled hands. "My dear child," he soothed, trying to meet her wide, staring eyes, "I believe I begin to understand the predicament you find yourself in. You are from the future, are you not?" Hermione didn't respond, still lost inside herself somewhere. Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know how you came to be in this time, but we will do our best to find out how this may have happened. Come my dear, and have some more tea, it will help."

Hermione snapped back to the present with a gasp as the warmth of the cup of tea that was placed gently into her hands managed to penetrate the shock for a moment. Her head jerked to the side and she stared wide eyed at Dumbledore. "Professor," she breathed, "I'm from 1996, June of 1996. How am I here?! Why am I here?! There were no timeturners, although…" She inhaled sharply, "we WERE in an office of the Time room…and Dolohov, his spell and mine must have connected, because I'm not injured and if it hit me I would definitely be injured. It didn't look like a pleasant spell. Could the mixing of the spells, coupled with the presence of the time room do this? Send me back 20 years?! And if that _is_ how I got back here, then how do we reverse it? How do we return me to my time? Oh Merlin, we can't, can we? No one has ever traveled forward in time without disastrous consequences! I'm stuck here, aren't I? Without Harry, without Ron, Ginny, Neville….oh, NO!" And she burst into tears, pressing the tea cup back into Dumbledore's hands she buried her face in her hands and sobbed as if her heart would break. Because honestly, it was, breaking into a million pieces.

Dumbledore sat back on his heels and sighed. He placed the abandoned tea cup back on his desk and wearily ran the palm of his hand over his eyes. Honestly, the girl was right, there was most likely no way to send her back. Her own time line was probably destroyed already simply by her sitting in front of him now, if the majority of time research was true. If she did somehow find a way back she would end up in a timeline so very different from the one she left she probably wouldn't recognize it. That is, if she made it back. Much of the research pointed to the possibility that if you tried to return to your future after traveling back in time you would simply become lost in the ether and end your existence altogether, or else age rapidly and die of shock. But of course, no one was really sure and it was just best not to meddle with time and simply let things play out as they would.

The Headmaster pulled himself gingerly to his feet, stretched his legs from their cramped position and walked carefully back around his desk, sinking gratefully down into the soft cushions of his chair. He rested his elbows on the arm rests and steepled his fingers, looking over them at the poor weeping girl with the wildly curly hair. He sighed gently and readied some placating words to say to her once she quit sobbing all over herself and the chair. He was going to have some questions for her as well, he couldn't let this opportunity to know how the future may turn out, pass him by.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry the start is a little slow. I promise it will pick up! I just needed to set a firm foundation for the rest of the story. I still feel like I rushed it a bit, but for now it will do. Now on to the story!**

 **Chapter 3**

A short time later, Hermione was finishing up a very abbreviated version of her story for Dumbledore's benefit. She had pulled herself back together with effort, and was pretty sure she would be crying again tonight, but for now she could speak and she could figure out where to go from here. Because she had to. She had no choice. From first year to fifth year she recounted her story, and by association, Harry and Ron's story as well. She explained who Harry was, she mentioned the prophecy that Harry had just listened to and told the Headmaster about the major players in the story of her life, in the fate of the future.

Dumbeldore listened carefully, storing everything away to think over it later. When the girl, Hermione Granger, he reminded himself, came to the end of her story and sat looking at him sadly he spoke in a calming tone, "Thank you for telling me what you know, Miss Granger, this is definitely helpful. But now I think we should turn to the task of finding you an identity and a place in this time. Do you agree?"

Hermione nodded slowly. She certainly agreed but at the same time was more than nervous about this new future of hers. "Do you really think I can never return to my future, Professor?"

Dumbledore sighed sadly, "I really don't think you can, since we have no way to recreate all the elements that threw you into this time in the first place. Nor do we even know if you would have a future to return to. If you would like I can study the situation a little, but please do not get your hopes up, my dear." His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled at her kindly.

Hermione focused on her breathing as she nodded in acknowledgement of what she had already been fearing. She was going to do a little research on spells connecting, herself, but with the time element and the unknown nature of the spell thrown at her, she was pretty certain it was all in vain. She was going to have to attempt to fit in here, out of her time.

"Now, Miss Granger, which house were you in, in your time?" the Professor interrupted her musings gently.

"Gryffindor, sir," Hermione answered softly.

"Hmm…."Dumbledore murmured as he turned his eyes towards the shelf to his right in thought and then brought them back to the tired, miserable looking girl in front of him, "Part of me would like to just place you back in your originally sorted house but the other, and possibly stronger part, would like to see you resorted. You have gone through much since you were first sorted as an 11 year old. You may be better suited in another house now and this seems like a perfect opportunity. What do you say?" He leaned forward in his seat almost imperceptibly.

Hermione looked thoughtful and though she expected to be outraged by such a suggestion she found herself thinking that it may actually be advantageous to be resorted. She would have the ability to affect changes wherever she may be placed, but maybe the hat would be able to see where she could affect the most change and place her there. She wanted to help create a better future than the one she came from, if she did nothing else. She lifted her chin and looked resolutely at Dumbledore, "Yes Professor," she said firmly, "I too think that may be a good idea."

Professor Dumbledore beamed at her and she couldn't help the little laugh she let out. He stood with much more energy than he had appeared to possess before and retrieved the sorting hat from a nearby shelf. With no ceremony at all he dropped it down on her head.

"Hmmm…" the Sorting Hat hummed. "Very interesting. Yes, yes, highly unusual. You come from the future, eh? Used to be in Gryffindor, hmmm? Well, well, you would also do very well in Ravenclaw, not so much Hufflepuff I don't think and Slytherin, hmmm, yes, you have cunning and ambition in spades my dear. You could do very well there. Where to put you, where to put you…"

Hermione sat very still, just listening to the Hat monologue. Finally she thought at it, _Please put me where I can do the most good, for the most people. Please._ She thought hard at it, earnestly, trying to impress upon the Hat how much she desired to create change for the better.

"Well, if you want to better this timeline, yes, yes, then better be…Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat shouted.

Dumbledore looked at the Hat in mild shock but Hermione was smiling. "I thought so," she grinned softly.

Raising an eyebrow at her soft words, Dumbledore took the Hat from off her head and carefully replaced it on the shelf. Then he turned to her and said briskly, "Well, now that we have taken care of that, we will definitely need to find you a cover story. If you are going to be in Slytherin it would be best for you to pretend to be a Pureblood, but if you think you cannot hold up that image then Half-blood would be the next best thing. My dear, they would eat you alive if they found out you were muggleborn." He sighed.

"I know," Hermione whispered, "It's the same in the future."

"Let me see," Dumbledore thought aloud, stroking his beard as he sat back down in his chair. "I believe the male side of the Peverell line died out years ago. We can work with that. Claim your mother was from a little known side branch of the Peverell family, I believe Idina Northam was descended from the Peverell line, definitely a Pureblood witch. She married a muggleborn wizard. They were very reclusive if I remember correctly and died from a particularly virulent strain of Dragon Pox about a year ago. We can claim that you were there daughter that they kept hidden because of family prejudice and that your parents homeschooled you until they died and then your guardian continued your schooling until recently until he finally decided to send you to Hogwarts at my insistence. How does that sound?"

Hermione grinned. "Like it is very well thought out. So my name would be Hermione Northam? "

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling now, "You kept your mother's name for appearances sake. I'll falsify paperwork for you. You'll be starting 6th year this year, correct?" At Hermione's nod he continued, "Then we will place you in sixth year. I'll task Minerva with buying your school supplies and a wardrobe of 70's appropriate clothes." When Hermione went to protest he raised his hand and said, "Now, now, my dear, all this is being paid for from the school funds for underprivileged children so do not think for a moment that you are taking from anyone."

Hermione sighed. "Thank you for everything then, Headmaster. I am indebted to you and grateful for your kindness."

"Nonsense, Miss Granger, ah, forgive me, Miss Northam" the Professor soothed, "I am quite delighted to do it and rather grateful to you for breaking up the monotony of my Summer." He winked at her then and she giggled. "Now, let me show you to the Slytherin dorms and get you set up with a password and a bed." He swept from his chair and crossed the floor, holding the door for Hermione as she stood, still a bit wobbly and made her way out the open door.


End file.
